


Nothing a Bath Couldn't Cure

by smithy_of_words



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:49:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2279019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithy_of_words/pseuds/smithy_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabela, Aveline, Hawke, and Merrill battle foes in Lowtown.<br/>Lots of friendly banter, some innuendo, and a Beatles' reference.<br/>Enjoy the F!Hawke/Merrill fluff (with hints at something more).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing a Bath Couldn't Cure

Before their feet, enemies fell left and right.

Bursts of nature magic and spirit alike flashed in green and blue, frantic and unyielding.

“Hawke, are you all right?,” Merrill cried, staff whipping around to smack a foe in his face.

Hawke smiled to one side, “Nothing a little elfroot and a bath won’t cure.”

She jumped backward to avoid the onslaught—bow at the ready.

Isabela cackled, her blades cutting through skin and sinew like so much ribbon; “Oh, kinky. Can I watch?”

Merrill’s face flushed bright pink, and was about to stammer an excuse, but luckily Aveline stepped in.

“Will you three stop it?,” she shouted between thrusts and parries.

Isabela grinned, throwing a dagger into their final enemy, “Please, you love us, big girl.”

Once the adrenaline worked through their bodies, the group sat down on some Lowtown steps to catch their breath.

“Everyone all right?,” Hawke turned to appraise their general situation.

Isabela sighed wearily, “I love a good fight, but these blood stains are going to be hard to get out. Care to buy me a new tunic?”

Hawke rolled her eyes, “Yes, yes, with all the vast reserves of wealth I have, I’ll purchase us all matching robes. We can be masked crime fighters.”

Merrill crowed, “The talk of the town! Oh, can we have a special name? Everyone we see has a special name. How about the Fabulous Four? The Fearsome Females? The Gregarious Griffons?”

Aveline rolled her eyes and chuckled, “Come on, you fools, before the fame gets to your head. Hawke, you can walk Merrill home so she doesn’t get lost again. And you,” she gestured at Isabela, “are coming with me. I can’t trust you to get home without causing trouble with more of my guards.”

Isabela feigned a whine, “But mother, I’m a big girl! Besides, those _big bad_ guards shouldn’t be so touchy about their property. Surely you have lots of knives in the barracks. I just wanted one with a pretty handle…”

The long suffering Aveline marched off, pulling Isabela’s nattering self behind her to the Hanged Man.

Just Hawke and Merrill remained.

“So…,” they both started at the same time.

Hawke smiled softly, “You first.”

Merrill cleared her throat and shuffled her feet in the dirt awkwardly, “I was just thinking, lethallan…if you needed some elfroot, I’ve got some I picked on Sundermount the other day. I’ve…got a basin, too. I could help tend to your wounds, i-if you like.”

Merrill stared at her feet.

Hawke mussed with Merrill’s hair jokingly, “Thank you, Merrill. I would like that very much.”

Merrill’s face lit up, “Oh good! Let’s go,” she babbled, “the space is rather small, though, and dark, but a fire wouldn’t be safe, and Arianni was so angry when I almost burned the lodgings down and…”

The two began to make their way back to the Alienage, Dog trailing behind, and Merrill’s chattering filling the dark corners with a low and comforting sound.

 It was a long evening, but one, Hawke thought, with the potential to be very good indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> I love these two so much.  
> Any prompt ideas for drabbles or longer stories are welcome for this or other pairings. But let's be honest, we all need some more F!hawke/ Merrill.  
> Feedback is welcome and encouraged.  
> Happy reading!


End file.
